


Small Differences

by cosmicaven



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Prompt Fic, Psychopaths In Love, the consulting couple back at it again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 14:41:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15932537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicaven/pseuds/cosmicaven
Summary: There must be some other word for this, Sherlock mused. Some word to describe us.





	Small Differences

**Author's Note:**

> I had written this for a 30 day Sheriarty challenge a few years back, and the prompt was "small differences." My writing was a lot crappier than it is now, I promise! Hope y'all enjoy the story. xo

Sherlock slammed the door shut, pressing his blood soaked palm against a gash in his shoulder. 

“Sherlock!” Jim and John stood up at the same time, alarmed, and the detective glanced dazedly between the two. “What are you two doing..?” 

The fact that he hadn't deduced it already was worrying both his lover and his best friend. John had already opened his first aid kit and was muttering about the impending sting of the disinfectant, rolling his eyes when Sherlock hissed at the pain, rather dramatically in his opinion. 

Moriarty, on the other hand, ran a hand through his hair and began to pace, grilling Sherlock on how he had gotten the wound, whether he had effectively shaken off his attacker, if he was _fucking insane, Sherlock, how could you be so reckless-_

“The thrill of the chase, bloody fantastic, you should've been there,” Sherlock, completely disregarding his fuming partner, began rambling at John, who was completely ignoring him in favor of bandaging his shoulder. Once the doctor was satisfied that Sherlock was patched up, he shared a look with Jim as if to say: _your turn to deal with this one._ He left the apartment, presumably to stay at his girlfriend’s for the night. 

“Tell me who he is.” Jim’s deadly, whispered words effectively cut through Sherlock's monologue through his infiltration of the local Chinese mafia, despite the lack of volume. The room was silent, the air almost crackling with electricity as Sherlock looked at him with a curious expression. 

“I don't know what you're-” 

“You know damn fucking well, Sherlock Holmes, and you'd do well not to act stupid towards me, of all people. So, _sweetheart,_ ” he paused, breathing in raggedly, “Tell me who the fuck did that to you or so help me _God_ I will kill their entire organization for this.” 

Sherlock paused, walking over to the couch where Jim was, staring in equal fascination and disbelief when the criminal all but curled up in the detective’s lap. 

“It doesn't matter, I'm alright,” Sherlock murmurs into Jim's hair, lightly kissing the top of his head. He was slightly amazed at how changeable the criminal was - from a predator to a lover in moments - he was quite correct in saying it was his only weakness. 

It was one of their miniscule differences that Sherlock would spend days in his mind palace mulling over, analyzing. There was nothing more fascinating than Moriarty, and Sherlock was fascinated by how they were so different, and simultaneously the same. James used his emotions like a weapon, anger and fury as a fire to fuel his actions, while Sherlock covered everything up in a shroud of ice, only for Jim to plant a little diamond in the middle of it all and shatter his whole world apart. Coax out those sheltered, unused feelings to come out and play, for a change. 

Sherlock was normally so aloof, content with their intellectual intimacy and almost never seeking out a physical connection. Usually it was Jim that initiated any and all contact- this instant being a prime example. Though it was usually reserved for important moments, usually if one had left the other for a long stretch of time. 

So what had prompted this? Sherlock looked down at his partner, whose hands were wandering across the plane of Sherlock's chest, his jaw, his hair, as if he was making sure that Sherlock was real. It wasn't logical, and they were men of logic, but the pained look in Jim’s eye made something churn in the base of Sherlock’s stomach that he couldn't explain away with chemistry. 

_There must be some other word for this,_ Sherlock mused while absentmindedly rubbing Jim’s back, accepting lazy kisses to his neck gratefully. _Some word to describe us._

“I love you.” Jim looked up at Sherlock, eyes betraying the desperation in his words. Silently pleading the detective to understand, to reciprocate, to take care of himself at the very least because without him Jim is lost in this world, spinning out of control at the very thought of being alone again.

And suddenly Sherlock finds the word for what they have. Suddenly, he realizes why John and his lover were in the same room without being at each other's throats. Everything that Jim has done was for Sherlock, their fates intertwined from the moment Carl Powers died to this moment decades later and as Sherlock realizes this he shoots out a reverent thanks to the universe for saving him, for bringing him to James Moriarty. 

Sherlock pushed his lover to lie with him on the couch, shoving away his indifference to physical touch for just one night. Just this once, they are the same, merging with the other till no one could tell where Jim began and Sherlock ended. They are the same, I am you, I O U, their shared final problem; and Sherlock finally understands.

\-----

“James,” Sherlock had mumbled into his pillow, cutting off most of the sound. 

“Yes, darling?” the criminal replied absentmindedly, searching for his trousers amidst their clothes, tangled together on the floor. 

Sherlock lifted his head from the pillows, cerulean eyes searching for Jim’s dark ones. Jim’s eyes sparked with curiosity as Sherlock hesitated to continue, eventually pushing his bangs away from his eyes and saying, 

“My parents would like to meet you. Dinner, tonight, they said,” he immediately regretted his words as James’ eyes positively lit up with amusement, joy, and something decidedly more mischievous. Sherlock knew that look - he had had erotic dreams about that look, had feared for the safety of the Queen herself once he saw that look. 

It was the detective’s very favorite look, this 30 million quid smirk that Jim sported. So, despite all his wariness, Sherlock smiled. 

-0- 

“Mrs. Holmes, it's such a pleasure to meet you, I've heard so much about you,” Jim was positively gushing to Sherlock's mother, who in turn was eating it all up. The detective just rolled his eyes, perfectly aware that he had never once mentioned his mother to the criminal. 

He wandered into his childhood bedroom, leaving James to the mercy of his father's firm handshakes and invasive, but well-meaning questions. Taking it all in, he saw the dust over his own picture frame, analyzing the time it would have taken for the dust to form and thinking back to when it was last glanced at. 

The Reichenbach Falls. Ah. Of course. Sherlock grimaced, and moved to the dining room, where Mycroft was sitting primly with his lips pressed thin, just _itching_ to have a go at his younger brother. 

The detective just raised an eyebrow at his older brother who smiled icily, saying only: “Brother dear, family is so important, it would do you well to remember that.” 

Sherlock scoffed at that, turning to his parents and his lover as they all walked into the room at the same time. It was clear that Jim and Sherlock's mum were chatting animatedly about her book, Dynamics of an Asteroid, while Sherlock's father just thumped Sherlock on the back, muttering in his ear that _you should keep this one close, lad._ Sherlock silently agreed. 

They all sat at the table, Mycroft always at his right and his parents at the ends of the table. James sat directly across from Sherlock, who shot him a silent question with his eyes. The criminal smiled vaguely, and revealed nothing. 

His eyes, though, his eyes were glinting madly and it made an electric shock go through the detective. Family dinners were always tedious, but this was something different. Of course Jim was playing the perfect boyfriend for the audience but he clearly had something in mind. And oh, did Sherlock love when the criminal was up to something clever.

**Author's Note:**

> Go on and follow me @cloudheist on tumblr, and @dynamicwritin on Twitter! I post a lot about these idiots on there, and I'll be posting more on this tag soon, hopefully. :)) kudos + comments keep me going.


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